


Finely Tuned Machinery

by wickedorin



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, Not friendly, angry dirty fighting sex, certainly not pleasant, how do I tag this stuff, mean af, not really subcon..?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 04:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17114699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedorin/pseuds/wickedorin
Summary: Written for my "Fuck SESTA/FOSTA" drabble drive. Request: "Sort of a fight/fuck, angry/hate sex, a fight to show who will dominate who -cuz Scarlet is no sissy and doesn’t give up easily."





	Finely Tuned Machinery

**Author's Note:**

> This… was a little difficult for me. Not because of the pairing or the subject matter, but because long ago I was used to writing crack versions of these two (and voicing Scarlet) and I actually had to pull myself out of that habit more than once. …I guess a little of that dynamic still snuck in, but mostly I managed? I hope? More mental control than physical, obviously. SOLDIERs and all that.

“You’re the best weapon we have and you know it.”  She pressed, prodded, _twisted_ her words into wounds she’d helped to create.  “Finely tuned machinery.”

Sephiroth was no idiot; he _knew_ of her manipulation.  Had known since his early teens, though for the most part she gave him space.  They were both relatively civil in meetings because they had to be, aside from occasional verbal duels.  Outside of that, however, in their encounters now and again…

The First Class was no _idiot_ , but that didn’t necessarily mean he did everything he knew he _should_ have.  It would have been far smarter to simply leave his own office, assured that she would get bored or have something else to do at some point and leave herself.  Instead of doing anything remotely intelligent, he grit his teeth and asked, “Then what would you have me do?”

The woman’s smile was slick and seething, not quite as _slimy_ as some of Hojo’s, but of a similar nature.  “A public demonstration against some robots.  You’d play up how big and strong you are, and I can convince a little more money out of the treasury department.  Deal?”

Every second ticking by was another reminder that he’d made a mistake in not leaving.  Maybe every decision after was something along the lines of “fuck it” or some act of self-destruction; Sephiroth ceased with the self-analyzing the moment he asked, “Wouldn’t a deal imply there was something in this for me?”

Scarlet snorted, sitting back on the SOLDIER’s desk and spreading her legs open.  “Give you a taste of something most men beg for?  How’s that?”

Anger was normally a _warm_ thing for him.  A growing heat into molten raging _viciousness_ beneath the surface.  Somehow just then it seemed to run cold; frozen enough to crack open and let heat bubble and solidify.  Was she even _implying_ –  “Who would _beg_?”

The grin across her lips was like a sucker punch, legs spreading a little wider to show she wore nothing beneath the dress.  “One time offer.  Show me how much of a weapon you really are.”

There was no logic behind it.  No reason, no proper explanation.  There was _nothing_ to grasp onto, point toward in order to explain any of it.  Sephiroth was simply _moving_ , had pinned the woman to the desk, inappropriately _hoping_ for fear but getting laughter–and a sharp heel in his thigh for the effort.

Picking.  Twisting.  “ _My_ , General.  I had no _idea_ you’d been waiting for an invitation.”

What would it take to shut her up, he wondered?  Growling, he pulled back and tried to flip her over–  Stunned when she’d already taken a handful of his hair and wound it around her hand.  It didn’t _hurt_ , per se, but there was no way he could do much moving away from her; or moving _her_ without severe injury or cutting his own hair.  That only served to make him seethe more.

As far as Scarlet was concerned, it was a delight to see a side of the SOLDIER that few ever had the opportunity to witness, let alone survive.  “Oh no you don’t.”  Her voice was silk and honey with a sharp edge, a confident bitterness.  “You’re going to look at me, Sephiroth.  You’re going to _see me_.  See who you’re _fucking_.”

Thought had already long since been discarded, but something deep within him was surprised and vaguely horrified by the renewed anger running through his veins (flooding, overflowing) at the _idea_.  The _suggestion_.  Sex and violence had never mingled in his mind, never existed on the same plane before.  The words, the look on the woman’s face, however–

He couldn’t have explained.  There was no reason.  The heel she’d jammed into his thigh disappeared, legs spread wide and welcoming, giving another little tug to his hair the moment he got his pants down just enough to free his cock.  No, no she _would not_ get what she wanted; she would get more, too much, everything she never expected and couldn’t handle.

Hasty plans, it might be said, had a way of falling apart.  Arching over, surging forward, the undeniable fact struck him like a hand across his face: she was already wet and open for him.  Wanting and waiting, legs wrapping around him and pulling him in closer.  There was a _furious_ growl and another tug of his hair, a roll of hips, squeeze of thighs, and an entirely too smooth slide.

It was horrific.  It was _good_.  Short and quick and brutal.  The desk suffered most of all, as did Sephiroth’s right ear when Scarlet damn near screamed into it with the intensity of her orgasm, drawing red lines across the SOLDIER’s back with her fingernails.  For his part, the First bucked hard and fast several more times before he followed suit with a far quieter grunt, remaining motionless as the desk splintered and bowed beneath them.

Seconds passed.  Scarlet tensed and relaxed several more times before she released her hold entirely with a sigh.  _That_ was when Sephiroth finally launched an all-out retreat, tucking himself back into his pants and leaving.  Too late.

There was a new desk in place of the ruined wreck on the following day.  Along with a note: _“And a fine-tuned weapon, at that.“_


End file.
